Moonlight
by Lochellen C
Summary: Luther moved to Forks, Washington expecting solace and safety. Instead he was met with a brooding clumsy girl, an odd strain of vampires, and a hulking shapeshifter. Normalcy, it seems, is not in the cards for this outcast among monsters.
1. A Stranger

Chapter 1

Luther lifted his head to the lush canopy above. Scattered rain pelted his face from beyond the branches. He sucked a deep breath through his nose and released it slowly from his mouth. People could say what they wanted to about Forks. It was heaven to him. It served as a refuge for everything he loved; wildlife, the soothing smell and sound of rain, small town folks and their idiosyncrasies, and, best of all, all kinds of legends and myths to immerse himself in.

He took another whiff of the rain soaked air before checking his watch. He had fifteen minutes before his first class started. That was plenty of time. He hopped down from the fallen tree trunk that served as his perch and loped along through the trees in the direction of the high school. He didn't get far when an enchanting noise caught his ear. He smirked to himself when he recognized it as the lightning fast heartbeat of a startled rabbit. For a moment, and only a moment, he considered chasing it. No, he had to fit the part, boring as that tended to be. He resumed his trip to school in a lazy trot.

Something was off when Luther entered the school grounds. The scent of excitement and hormones was thick in the air. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook the cloying odor out of his nose. His worn sneakers squeaked on the wet pavement as he made his way across the parking lot. Mike Newton, an acquaintance of Luther's who was slowly becoming a friend, offered him a cheery wave. Luther put on his usual close-lipped smirk and gave a slight nod in response. Mike's gaze wandered away to something just beyond Luther. He turned to see just what was so interesting.

It was a girl. She was new to the school, perhaps, and certainly nervous. Other than that, he didn't see what had Mike so intrigued. He gave her a friendly smirk which she reciprocated with angsty discomfort. She smelled terrified underneath the brooding face that almost certainly served as her armor. She was friendless. Almost defenseless. It was an understandable reaction to being in a new place, but it was that sort of fear that separated the predators from the prey. This new girl was definitely prey, but not the kind that interested him. He resumed his stroll to his first period class.

If he got there in time, there was a chance he could find his seat and bury himself in his notes before Alice arrived. She had caught him staring a couple times before, and he didn't want to revisit that embarrassment. That girl was something else. She definitely wasn't human; she smelled too dead for that. Her scent wasn't, unpleasant, though. Hers was a sweet sort of decay. She reminded him of the flowers people pressed in books. She was as vibrant as if she were alive, but she had a fragile kind of beauty that only dead things possessed. And yet, there was strength to her. He got the impression that her rightful place was somewhere at the top of the food chain, like him. He shook his head and pushed through the classroom door. How corny could he get?

Her faintly sweet scent hit him before he could lay eyes on her. He felt blood rush to his face and quickly took his seat. He could have imagined it, but he thought those beautiful large eyes had turned his direction. He flipped open his notebook and fumbled for a pencil at the bottom of his backpack. He couldn't find one. A soft tap registered through the thick material of his fleece jacket. He looked up. There, in all of her pixie-esque glory, was Alice. She smiled at him and he felt as though his face was on fire.

"I've got extras," she said, holding out a pencil to Luther.

"Th-thanks. Thank you," he stammered. He was mortified when his voice broke at the end of the sentence.

She gave him a kind smile and returned to her seat. Luther feverishly wished he could disappear, but nothing happened to relieve his humiliation. He hunched over his notebook and reviewed his notes with such intensity that his head started to hurt. Why couldn't he have just brought a pencil to school? It wasn't that much to ask. But then, if he had, she wouldn't have touched his shoulder. He could still feel that tiny tap against his jacket. He looked down at the pencil in his hand. Alice's pencil. He was holding _Alice Cullen's pencil_. At least he had that small victory to cling to.

* * *

The period crawled on in a blur of words and power-point slides. Luther took his notes as he should, but his focus was trained in Alice's direction. Her constant companion, Jasper, was not seated far away and he was very pointedly watching Luther. Luther could never figure Jasper's involvement with Alice. Were they a couple? Brother and sister? The whole thing was admittedly weird, but somehow it didn't detract from Alice's allure.

Finally, the period ended. Luther packed up his things and took a deep breath. With all the courage he could muster, he crossed the room to where Alice was seated.

"Thanks again," he said as he held out the pencil to her. At least this time his voice stayed steady.

Alice favored him with another smile and held up one of her hands, "I've got enough pencils. Why don't you keep it?"

"You're sure?"

"Really, it's alright."

"Th-thanks, Alice," he stuttered, beginning to lose his composure again, "well, see you around."

"See you."

Luther hurriedly left the classroom before he could ruin their meeting with something even more awkward or stupid. When he had rounded the corner outside, he flopped against the wall of the building and clenched the pencil in triumph. He laughed to himself for a moment before making his way to the boy's locker room for P.E.

* * *

"So she gave you a pencil?" Mike Newton asked with a grin as he and Luther stretched for the period's warmup run, "That's like, halfway to first base, right?"

Luther gave him a playful shove, "Whatever. It's the most contact I've had with her ever, so I'm happy."

"Speaking of contact," Mike said with a smile, "I had a chance to hang out with that new girl, Bella. She's really cool! I'm thinking I might ask her out."

Luther looked up at Mike and cocked an eyebrow as he stretched out his hamstrings, "Really? I thought she was kind of odd. High-maintenance, maybe. But if you like her, man, go for it."

"What do you mean, high-maintenance?" Mike asked, pausing from his stretching routine.

Luther straightened up. He could explain the complications of adopting prey as a pet rather than letting nature take its course, but there didn't seem to be a point. Mike was preoccupied with her, and if Luther knew anything about Mike, he would continue to be preoccupied with her until something new came around, which was rare in Forks. Luther gave Mike his trademark close-lipped smirk.

"It was just the impression I got from her. Call it instinct."

Mike shrugged, "Still asking her out."

Luther rolled his eyes and they finished stretching. He closed his eyes and let the cold wash over him when they made their way to the track. He had a naturally higher body temperature that stifled him in his fleece, and it was a relief to have an excuse not to wear it. Mike shivered beside him.

"I'm starting to think that you don't have nerve endings," he mumbled ruefully.

"Or you're a wimp," Luther teased.

He kicked off into an easy trot before Mike could retort. His thoughts drifted as he followed the monotonous curve of the track. It had been a long time since he had been so content. He'd talked to Alice, she gave him her pencil, things were getting more comfortable with Mike, his grades were picking up... It was almost as if he was normal. His dad had been right. Forks was a good place for a new start. He would keep up the charade this time.

"You're off your game, man!"

Luther jerked out of his reverie. Mike had caught up with him and quickly passed him up. A growl escaped Luther's lips, but only loudly enough for him to hear. It was on. He picked up speed and zeroed in on Mike. There was no way he was going to let his friend beat him, not even once. He wove through the other runners with an almost graceful kind of precision and was on Mike's tail in moments. A small voice in the back of Luther's head reminded him that this kind of game was dangerous. He shook it away. He was in control. There was nothing to worry about. He pushed himself harder.

"What were you saying?" he called as he left Mike in the dust.

* * *

The rest of the day passed fairly quickly. Amid the usual collection of lessons and quizzes was the constant buzz about the new girl. It was true that Forks didn't see new students very often, but Luther couldn't figure out what the fuss was all about. She was just a girl. A shy, awkward, clumsy girl. There were several of them at the school. Really, the fascination with her was starting to become annoying. It was something of a relief when the final bell of the day rang.

Luther escaped the campus by the same route he had used that morning. He checked the fallen log that had previously been his perch when he passed it. His bag of essentials was still tucked into the hollowed out end of it. He doubted anyone would have wanted it if they found it. To anyone else it would have seemed like nothing. There was just a set of clothes, a full water bottle, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a stick of deodorant. But Luther had been caught without these things before, and the sight of them waiting for him was comforting. He would double check that the bag was there before the coming night's... events.

Honestly, the La Push reservation would have been a better setting for what was coming, but he couldn't risk anyone noticing a pattern. That had gotten him into trouble in the last town. This time, he had five different territories to choose from and he was very careful about keeping the incidents looking as natural and random as possible. Yes, this part of the forest would be his playground tonight.

His mom greeted him as he walked though the door. She was at the sink scrubbing at a stubborn glob of hardened food on a plate.

"Well, don't you look happy! Good day at school?"

Luther smirked, "You could say that."

His mom's lips pulled into a wide grin. She might not have had the senses he was gifted with, but her intuition seemed on par with telepathy at times. She set down the plate she had been cleaning and fixed him with her deep blue stare. She always got the information she wanted with that stare.

"You talked to that Alice girl, didn't you?"

Luther blushed, crossed to the refrigerator, and opened the door, "C'mon, Mom."

She returned to her scrubbing with a melodramatic sigh.

"Okay, fine. Don't tell your mother about it. It's not like she could give you advice about girls, or anything. Oh, and don't ruin your appetite. You know what happened last time you hunted on a full stomach."

Luther closed the refrigerator door and sighed, "Whatever you say, drama queen."

She laughed, "Well, if you're not going to tell me about it, go help your father. He could use a hand chopping firewood."

"You won't let me eat before a hunt, but I can exhaust myself with chores before I go?"

She lifted an eyebrow, "And _I'm_ the drama queen?"

He snatched a couple of apples on his way out the door to the backyard. He smirked when his mother's protestations were muted by the closing door. His father gave him a nod in greeting before setting down his ax to wipe the sweat from his face.

"How'd you upset her this time?" he asked Luther.

Luther tossed his father one of the apples, "Eating."

His father chuckled and polished the apple on one of his pant legs before biting into it.

"Quite the offense. You know, your grandpa always ate a little bit before his hunts. He said it kept his head clear."

"Yeah?" Luther asked around a mouthful of apple.

His dad nodded as he took another bite, "He said it was all about balance. If he was hungry when he went out, he'd end up killing more than he had to. If he was full, he never really satisfied the need to hunt. He was always at his happiest somewhere in between."

Luther nodded, absorbing the information. His dad had always been helpful when it came to Luther's condition, and he was grateful for it, but he couldn't help wishing his grandpa was still around to give him pointers, too. From what he understood, his grandpa was a good man and an upstanding member of society despite his illness. He hadn't deserved what happened to him.

Luther's dad clapped him on the shoulder when he saw his son's clouding expression, "He'd be proud of you, you know."

Luther shrugged, "Maybe. It just... it makes me nervous. Grandpa played by the rules. He did everything right. Still, he got... he got..."

"Yes. He did. But that does not mean that it will happen to you. Hunting laws are a lot stricter in Washington and nobody knows what you are. Your grandpa was not as careful as he could have been."

"Still..."

"I could go with you," his father offered, taking another bite of apple, "if that would make you feel better."

Luther felt his face go pale. The thought terrified him. If the wolf got aggressive even for a second... he didn't want to think about it.

"No," he replied flatly.

His father frowned, "Now, son, I've been around hunts before. Hell, I've had to stand up to your grandpa before and he was a full grown wily lycan. I would have no problem going with you."

Luther shook his head, "No. Thanks, Dad. I'll be okay. I should probably go... It'll be dark soon."

His dad nodded, albeit unhappily. He gave Luther's shoulder a squeeze before he returned to the woodpile.

"See you in the morning, son."

"See you."

He swept through the back door, kissed his mom on the cheek, and was walking down the front walkway before she could finish saying goodbye. His skin felt too tight and his very bones felt wrong. It was already starting. He could feel that it would be a quick shift tonight, and that meant that he had to get out of sight quickly. What little light there was in the sky had started to fade.

As much as his parents did to help him they could never fully understand what it was like. His mother didn't have a drop of lycan blood in her veins and the illness skipped generations on his father's side. Not even his six brothers had to deal with his condition; only one still lived in the same house as him. Full moon nights had always been the loneliest and most alienating. This one was no exception.

He had hardly reached the fallen tree when he felt the familiar burning itch streak across his back. As quickly as he could, he stripped down to his underwear and checked to see that his essentials bag was still in place. He sighed in relief when he saw that it was, but that relief was short-lived. The shift was not going to wait any longer. With the ferocity that he had become familiar with but could never fully prepare for, the shift ripped through his body.

Skin stretched, tendons popped, muscles reshaped, and bones cracked. Thousands of red hot needles forced their way through his follicles and the pain teased a snarl from his half-formed vocal cords. His already heightened senses exploded. Every scent and sound bombarded him as his ears and nose assumed their final positions. He was a quivering heap of pale fur when the shift finally shuddered to a halt.

It took some time, as it always did, for his transformed muscles to stop trembling. When he was confident that he could stand he shook off the ruined tatters of his underwear. He took a few breaths and let the night fill his senses. Tonight this forest was his. Everything that he fought against for the rest of the month could come out to play. This was what freedom felt like.

He threw himself into a run. He wasn't tracking anything, not yet. Luther allowed himself to feel his muscles work like water over stones. Soon he'd let go. He'd let the wolf take over and his human side would sleep until morning. He just had to check that it was safe first, for both himself and anyone else who might be nearby.

A scent he couldn't place hit his nose and something ahead of him stirred. It was a huge shadow among shadows. It didn't smell like bear, though it was big enough to be. He gave a warning growl. The wolf inside forced his hackles to raise. It was railing against him for control. The shape growled in response, loud and intimidating. Luther stepped back, but the wolf stepped forward. It forced him to circle the mystery shape. This was the wolf's territory, at least for the night, and it wasn't going to give it up. Luther wanted to run, but the wolf locked his legs.

The wolf never spoke in words. It preferred visions. Now it pushed darkness across Luther's thoughts and conjured the sound of slumbering breath. It was time for Luther to sleep and he was powerless to stop it from overwhelming him. His vision clouded into blackness and the world went quiet.

* * *

AN: Reason dictates that I should not start another story while I'm working on Left 2Gether, but I saw the Twilight movie and had to write... something. I'm not really a fan of the series, but we'll see how this plays out.


	2. A Conundrum

Chapter 2

Luther felt woozy when he opened his eyes the next morning. The sun, although veiled as always, was up higher in the sky than he had anticipated. As he slowly became conscious of his surroundings he began to realize just how much pain he was in. He lifted a hand with some difficulty to his face. Blood. Everywhere. And by the smell of it, most of it was his.

A new wave of dizziness came when he pushed himself up into the sitting position. He was almost completely painted with blood. He looked around faster than he probably should have and his head swam. There was no one in sight. Thank God. He took inventory of his surroundings again, but slower this time. He was where he had fallen asleep when the wolf took over. The wolf had obviously lost the fight with the mystery shape, and it seemed it hadn't taken long.

There was no way that he could stand unassisted, so he slumped forward onto all fours and began to crawl back toward the fallen log and his essentials bag. Pain flared through him with every movement. He took inventory of his injuries. His skin was raw in some places, torn in others, and completely missing along half of his left thigh. Whatever had fought him didn't aim to kill. If it had, he would have been traveling through its digestive system rather than dead leaves. No. This was defensive. This was about territory. He wouldn't be hunting here again.

Luther's vision was severely blurred by the time he reached his essentials bag. His heart dropped when he found it open. He searched it. Nothing was missing, but someone had unzipped it and rifled through it. He searched for a scent beneath the overpowering smell of his own blood. There was an odor that he thought he knew. It could have been the thing from the night before, but it was hard to tell. He wasn't thinking clearly. In fact, he wasn't sure if he could get home under his own strength.

A familiar tug at his consciousness got his attention. The wolf pushed the picture of his house into his head, and then the image of his wolf self's flexing muscles. The wolf wanted to take him home, but he would have to give up control. He shook the thought away and reached for the contents of the bag. His hands were shaking violently. The wolf impatiently shoved the image of sinew beneath fur across Luther's eyes. He pulled the bottle of water out of the bag and, with some difficulty, unscrewed the cap. He sipped at the water and poured some into his shaking hands to clean the blood from his face.

He didn't trust the wolf. It obviously hadn't had a chance to hunt and was not going to be anything less than aggressive if it met someone on the way. He picked up the previous night's shirt and used it to wipe away the blood. He sipped some more water. It wasn't helping much. With a herculean effort, he managed to get dressed in his spare clothes. The feat was exhausting. He had some more water and tied the bloodied shirt around his thigh to slow the steady ooze of blood. The wolf forced the image again. It didn't like being ignored.

"Enough," Luther growled aloud as he pulled his bag onto his back, "I'm taking care of this."

Standing was a challenge. It took him a few tries to steady himself, but he finally managed it. He couldn't take the short way home. He was sure he looked like some kind of serial-killing maniac, and going back the way he had come would take him along some fairly busy streets. He would follow the edge of the woods instead. His dad had most likely already opened up his family's store for the day. He would skirt the woods until he reached the side streets behind the store. Hardly anyone took those roads. With renewed resolve, he picked up a fairly thick stick to assist him and began walking.

He made it halfway to the side streets before he collapsed in a dead faint. The lack of blood and food proved to be too much for him to handle. The wolf seized the opportunity. Both of them were too weak for another shift, but the wolf knew how to survive on very little. He opened Luther's eyes and stood him up. It was an uncomfortable thing, moving on two legs, so he returned to what he knew. Four legs provided stability even though his human body wasn't made for it. The wolf continued their course. Luther was foolish. He would need to learn that the wolf was his pack. His ally. He would have to show him.

* * *

Luther's dad flipped through an old book about wood carving. It was one of the many used books that lined the shelves in the little store. Business was slow that day, but then, business was slow just about every day before winter. He sighed and turned another page. He jumped when the phone rang. Hardly anyone called the store number. He picked up the receiver. His wife's words were a jumble on the other end of the line. He tossed aside the book.

"Easy, honey. Slow down. What happened?"

His heart sank at her words. Luther had not come home to get ready for school. He hadn't come home at all. Something had gone wrong. He immediately locked the register and began closing up shop.

"Stay calm and don't leave the house. If he comes home, he might need you there. I'm locking up now. We'll find him, honey."

He gave a quick goodbye and hurried to turn flip the cheery, "Come on in, we're open!" sign to, "Sorry, we're closed." His mind raced. It was Montana all over again. His mind conjured up the sight of Luther bleeding in the snow. He shook it away and tore open the front door. As he fished for his keys so he could lock it behind him, he heard a sound that made his blood turn to ice. It was a growl, but not just any growl. It was one he knew too well. It was the sound of a wolf trying to speak with a man's voice. It had happened with his father twice before, and each time resulted in tragedy. He turned to look for the source.

Luther was staring warily from around the corner of the bookstore. He was bloodied and his eyes shined icily. Luther's dad lifted his hands and dropped his gaze to the ground.

"Let him go so I can take him home," he told the wolf firmly.

He hazarded a glance at the wolf wearing his son's skin. His lips had curled back over bloodstained teeth and the inhuman snarl met his ears once again. Luther's dad hunched forward and crouched to show submission.

"I am not going to hurt him or you. Please, trust me and let him go."

The wolf went silent and Luther dropped heavily onto the sidewalk. His father pulled him up and half- carried half-dragged him to his truck.

* * *

Luther startled awake when he heard his mom's voice rise to hysterical levels. He blinked at his sterile white surroundings.

"What do you mean I can't see him?" his mother's voice demanded, "He's my son! You let me in there, or so help me-"

"Mallory," said his father's voice sternly, "the doctor knows what he's doing. If he says that Luther needs more time, he needs more time. How long do you think it will be, Carlisle?"

A softer voice that Luther had never heard before answered, "Not too long, I don't think. The nurse was almost done with the stitches. I'll let you know as soon as he is ready for company."

A door beyond Luther's sight opened and closed. The privacy curtain was drawn gingerly back and a pale man in a doctor's coat peeked in at him. He smiled.

"You're awake," he observed, "you are quite the fighter."

Luther's lips twitched in a small smirk. _More than you could ever know,_ he thought. He paused. This doctor smelled off. There was a smell of decay about him that Luther was sure had nothing to do with treating sick people. The man before him was definitely dead. He had heard the name Carlisle before, and he was certain that the man was Alice's father.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen," Luther croaked.

Carlisle stepped past the privacy curtain and pulled it closed, "How are you feeling?"

Luther examined himself for the first time since opening his eyes. He was positively littered with stitches and butterfly closures. His skin felt tight in some places and his left thigh was on fire.

"Sore," he managed to reply.

Carlisle chuckled, "Well, that is to be expected. You scared us for a while, there. You needed three blood transfusions and it was difficult finding blood your body would accept."

He lifted an eyebrow knowingly and Luther froze, "W-why was that?"

Carlisle's voice quieted to little above a whisper, "We don't have many werewolf donors. Some, but not many. You are _very_ lucky."

"How did you-"

Carlisle tapped his nose and smirked, "You can smell what I am, and I can smell what you are. Though, you aren't a shapeshifter, I don't think. This really is very fascinating. I've studied werewolves for a long time, but I've never met a lycanthrope in person before. You heal remarkably fast."

Luther felt himself go paler, if that was even possible, "Please, don't-"

Carlisle held up a hand, "I won't tell anyone. I know the importance of secrets. I'll let your mother know you're ready to see her."

Luther flopped back against the coarse hospital pillows. His head was reeling. He had been attacked, on the brink of death, discovered for what he was, and introduced to some kind of supernatural doctor in the course of twelve hours. It was a lot to take in. Carlisle put his hand to the privacy curtain, but turned back to Luther before opening it.

"Alice tells me that you aren't a threat, but I am not sure if she can convince Jasper of that. I would keep my distance, just to be safe."

With that, he swept through the curtain and out the door beyond. Luther sat, dumbfounded. Alice knew, too? And she wasn't afraid? That was a first. His heart quickened and a smirk sprang to his face. She knew what he was and she wasn't afraid. But what was that about Jasper? Even though Luther could fight, he wasn't sure he wanted to anger the guy. Perhaps it _would_ be best to lay low for a while. His mood sank.

In an effort to distract himself, he cautiously peeled back the blankets of the hospital bed. Several ugly sets of stitches wound down his legs and across his arms. He didn't dare look at the damage under his hospital gown. He scrambled to cover himself when his mother ripped back the curtain, but it was too late. She had already seen the state of him. Her blue eyes immediately drowned in tears and she rushed to fling her arms around his neck.

"Oh, honey," she sobbed, "what happened to you?"

His father closed the curtain behind him and looked Luther over with barely-concealed concern.

"What did this?" he murmured.

Luther felt his eyes flick anxiously to the edge of the curtain where Dr. Cullen had entered before. He returned his gaze to his father.

"We should talk about it at home."

His father turned to look where Luther had been staring and slowly nodded, "I see."

* * *

Luther was exhausted on many levels when his father finally helped him upstairs and into bed. He had told his parents all that he knew, which didn't amount to much. The wolf had been fighting him since he woke up in the hospital. It was not satisfied with the hunt, which meant the whole next month would be a living hell. He would be struggling against surprise shifts until the next full moon. And, to add to it all, the pain meds were starting to make him drowsy.

He rubbed his face and absentmindedly began to pluck at the stitches on his arms that no longer served any purpose. If his condition was good for nothing else, at least his body had a handy way of mending itself. When he had removed the useless stitches on one arm, he turned to the other. Something beneath his pillow crinkled. Confused, he reached beneath it. His fingers met with paper, which he pulled from its hiding spot. When he saw the paper he swallowed hard.

 _We know. Stay out of La Push,_ was scrawled in hurried handwriting.

He quickly crumpled the note and shoved it under his bed. That was the last thing that either one of his parents needed to see now. Whoever this was and whatever they wanted, he would get to the bottom of it himself. His parents, his mother in particular, had been forced into horrible circumstances in Montana and it was his fault. That wasn't going to happen again in Forks.

Before he could think too deeply about who or what was threatening him, his cell buzzed on his bedside table. It was Mike.

 _didnt c u at school. did u really get attacked by a bear?_

Luther smirked and shook his head. News traveled fast in this town.

 _I think so. I didn't get a good look at it but it was big._

 _im coming over._

 _Don't bother. My mom won't let you up to see me. Maybe tomorrow._

 _ok. c u 2morrow_

 _See you._

He tossed the phone back onto the side table and resumed contemplating the note. Who could possibly know? There was Carlisle, but he didn't seem like he was upset with Luther at all. And what would he want with La Push, anyway? It was a reservation, and Carlisle was obviously as far from native american as they came. There was Alice, but she was nothing but nice to him. Jasper, maybe? Threatening Luther seemed like something he might do, but that still left him wondering why Jasper would care so much about La Push.

He groaned and slid further under his covers. He wasn't getting anywhere. A soft knock came at his bedroom door.

"Come in."

Bruno, his older brother by two years, poked his head into the room. He was still in his waiter attire which stank of grease and burnt toast from the diner in town. He gave a sympathetic half-smile.

"Rough hunt, huh?"

Luther raised an eyebrow and stretched out his stitched arms for his brother to see, "That would be an understatement."

"Mom said it was a bear. And here I thought you were a badass when you survived getting shot," Bruno grinned, stepping into the room, "way to show me up."

Luther shrugged, "I'm not sure if it _was_ a bear. It didn't smell like one."

Bruno flopped into the computer chair at Luther's desk and spun lazily back and forth with an outstretched foot, "It sure as hell wasn't a rabbit. If it wasn't a bear, what else do you think it could have been?"

Luther's brow furrowed and he pushed his pale hair out of his eyes, "I don't know. There are some weird things living in Forks."

"Weirder than you?" he teased.

"Shut up," Luther growled playfully.

Bruno stood, ruffled Luther's hair, and made his way for the door, "I'm glad you're alright."

He paused and looked back at his brother. His face was uncharacteristically somber when he said, "I thought for a second that it was Montana all over again. I was ready to kill whoever did this to you. Just... you know. Thought I'd tell you."

He turned to leave, but Luther stopped him.

"Hey. Thanks, man."

Bruno shrugged, made a strangled noise somewhere between a sob and a cough, and slipped out the door. Luther stared up at the ceiling. He had often times wondered if it would have been better for everyone if he'd just run off and disappeared. He was trouble, just like anyone else with the illness. But then there would be brief moments of clarity, most of which came from Bruno, that made him feel like he belonged. He could never thank his brother enough for that.

Eventually, his mind wandered back to the note that lay in a ball under his bed. He would stay out of La Push and the forest near the school, but that left him only a few other options unless he traveled out of town. Unless he somehow managed to get a car, that would be nearly impossible. The shift was too unpredictable for him to be caught somewhere between hunting grounds when it happened. At least with a car he could cut the travel time down and lessen the possibility of disaster. He would have to find a way to convince his parents that he needed a car without telling them anything about the note. This was getting complicated.

Thankfully, the pain meds put him to sleep before he could think too much more about it. He slept so hard that not even the wolf could stay awake.


	3. The Unraveling

Chapter 3

Luther was almost entirely healed by the next morning. However, with news about the supposed bear attack circulating through the town, his parents had decided that keeping him home was probably the best thing to do. With his father manning the bookstore, his mother attending a lunch with some lady friends, and Bruno traveling out of town for his college classes, Luther was left alone in the house. Taking the opportunity, he threw himself headfirst into research about whoever might have written the crumpled note that lay before him.

His study of vampires was by and large fruitless. All of the differing descriptions and accounts of them could not explain the hulking beast that had torn him to shreds in the woods, and there was no evidence that they had any kind of relationship with native americans or La Push. He sighed and closed his laptop. He needed a break. The wolf, however, had other ideas. Suddenly, images of the portion of the battle in the woods that he had been asleep for flashed through his head. He could see his attacker. Huge. Covered in coarse black fur. And... lupine?

According to the wolf's vision he had encountered another wolf, but it was massive. There was no way it was an ordinary animal. There was no way it was lycan, either, unless the guy was ten feet tall when he was in human form. He opened up the laptop again and altered his search. What he found made his blood turn to ice in his veins. Terrifying encounters with guardian spirits, wendigoes, and shapeshifters crowded his Google search. Any of these things could be guarding the La Push reservation, but the same creature could be guarding _all_ of the forests in Forks for all he knew. He had thought the incident in Montana was bad but this seemed like it could easily be worse.

Luther rubbed his hands over his face and groaned. Couldn't anything ever be easy? The wolf nudged at his mind, slipping images of raw meat in between the increasingly worried thoughts that were piling on top of each other. Luther sighed. The wolf wanted a reward for the information he had given. He set the laptop aside, kicked off his blankets, and made his way downstairs. There was bound to be something the wolf would be satisfied with.

He opened the door to the refrigerator and jumped at a knock on the back door. Mike was smiling at him from the other side of the glass. Quickly, Luther adopted a more pained posture and shuffled to the door. Mike bounded in when he opened it and looked him over.

"You look really good for surviving a bear attack," he observed, raising a curious eyebrow.

"I'm a mess under the pajamas," Luther explained while he did his best to look drugged and achey, "they gave me three blood transfusions."

Mike swallowed, "Whoa. What are you doing out of bed? How are you even walking right now?"

Luther shrugged uncomfortably and blocked Mike's scrutinizing view with the refrigerator door, "I got hungry and nobody's here. It's survival mode, I guess."

His friend immediately grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him to a chair at the dining room table. He slipped out of his backpack, dropped it on the floor, and flung open the refrigerator.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked.

The wolf forcefully plastered the image of raw meat across his vision yet again. He did not want to be cheated out of the exchange of food for information, and Luther knew that if he didn't get what he wanted he would take it by force. He had to think quickly.

"You know, I'm really craving breakfast food right now. Maybe some bacon?"

"Sure thing," his friend replied, searching the refrigerator.

He thought that if he was quick enough, he could snag a couple of raw pieces while Mike was cooking. His heart dropped when Mike pulled a package of pre-cooked bacon out of the fridge. Since when did his mom buy pre-cooked bacon, anyway? He fidgeted nervously. The wolf was getting more than impatient. A familiar burning prickle teased the skin along his spine.

"Hey, uh, on second thought, maybe I should just go to bed. The painkillers I take make me nauseous," he said hastily, very aware of how gravelly his voice was quickly becoming.

Mike turned around to reply, but his words died in his mouth. He shut off the burner that he had just gotten to light and took a few steps toward Luther.

"Hey, man, you okay? You look like you're going to pass out."

Luther waved a shaking hand, all the while fighting with all he had to keep the wolf at bay, "I'm fine, I'm just tired. What if I text you later and we can hang out then? I think I need sleep more than food right now."

Mike furrowed his brows in concern, "You sure? I mean... if you haven't eaten much today-"

"Really, I'm okay," Luther said a little more sharply than he intended to, but followed it up with a much gentler, "my brother should be home soon. I'll just sleep until he gets here and he can make me something then."

Mike begrudgingly pulled his backpack onto his shoulder, "Well, if you're sure. Text me, alright? I might not be home tonight. I'm supposed to go to La Push with some friends, but maybe I can catch up with you tomorrow."

Luther nodded weakly and forced his usual closed-lipped grin despite the spreading burn on his back, "Sounds good, man."

As soon as Mike was out of sight Luther ran to the basement door, flung it open, threw himself onto the top step, and locked the door behind him. The change ripped through him the moment the lock clicked. Had Mike stayed only a couple of seconds more the wolf would have destroyed him. Instead, he destroyed everything he could get his teeth on; paper towel rolls, canned vegetables, boxes of nicknacks with Luther's scent on them... all of it was mangled. He kept Luther awake for the whole ordeal, and was sure to punctuate the destruction with images of bloodied snow and the sounds of shotgun fire as he saw fit. He didn't trust Mike. He could wield a gun just as easily as the men in Montana. This was Luther's punishment for letting the boy get so close, and for cheating him out of a meal.

* * *

After somewhere around an hour, Luther emerged from the basement with the remnants of a destroyed childhood blanket wrapped around his waist. He had just set one foot on the stairs to his room when his mother came through the door. He made a mad dash up the stairs. The last thing he needed was for anyone to see him mostly naked and splattered with different varieties of canned foods.

"Luther?" she called from the kitchen, "You okay, honey?"

"Fine, Mom," he called back halfway convincingly, "just tired."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Not really."

"I'll make you something. What do you want?"

"Something raw, I don't care what."

He heard her grow quiet. She wasn't moving. She was probably holding her breath, too. He rubbed his face and sighed. She knew what his request for raw meat meant, and he knew how she would respond. At least she didn't know about the mess in the basement yet.

"I've got a steak thawing in the fridge. Just hold on, okay?"

"No rush, Mom. I'm okay," he reassured her before going into the bathroom to clean the canned food off of himself.

As Luther predicted, his mother was both clingy and skittish when she brought up the steak. She felt his forehead with the inside of her wrist and looked him over. Her eyes were shining with unspent tears of concern.

"Will this be enough? I can go get more if-" she began.

"Mom," he said quietly.

"I don't want you to have to fight this whole month-"

"Mom."

"If you were found out like last time I don't know what I'd do-"

"Mom," he said more sternly and stood to hug her, "I am fine. This isn't Montana. I'm taking care of it. I'll ask for help if I need it. Please, stop worrying. You're making him nervous."

It was true. The wolf cared deeply for Luther's mother and felt a need to protect her. If she was scared, the wolf would respond to whatever threat he thought caused it, either real or imaginary. It was fighting to take control even as Luther hugged her. If she didn't calm down soon, it would take more than meat to quiet the wolf.

She took a deep breath that shuddered ever so slightly and nodded her head. She lifted his shirt and examined his stitches.

"Look at that," she sighed, hastily wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes, "not even a scratch left."

Luther sat on his bed and pulled the plate of raw meat onto his lap, "Yeah, I don't know how I'll explain that when I get back to school."

"About that," his mother said with a smile, "your father and I asked your teachers to put together your classwork for the next couple of weeks. We thought that would be long enough to let the news blow over. Your father had the idea that we might visit Alaska for part of your time off. He wants to show you a few tricks he learned from grandpa."

Luther nodded, taking a rather bloody bite out of the steak, "Thanks, Mom."

She patted his knee and left him to his meal. When she closed the door to his room, he sighed and flopped back on the bed. He had no idea how he was supposed to look into the local native american folklore if he was holed up in some little cabin in Alaska with his parents. They meant well, and he did appreciate the effort, but this was getting too complicated. The wolf, on the other hand, liked the idea. He sent images of himself rocketing across the snow after a hare. Luther would be lying if he said the idea wasn't a little exciting.

* * *

Bruno wasn't anywhere near as pleased when he got home from school. Luther could hear his grumpy mumbling and heavy pacing from the basement as he cleaned. He stuffed the last of what childhood possessions he could salvage into a box and wiped his dusty hands on his pants. He took a deep breath before heading back upstairs. Bruno might not have had a wolf inside him, but even a seasoned lycan would have been fooled by his temper. On top of that, Alaska was somewhere that he had been wanting to visit for years now. This wasn't good.

There was no avoiding him. He was slumped against the wall in the kitchen, which was in full view of the staircase, when Luther climbed the stairs. Bruno levered himself off of the wall with a jerk of his shoulder and stalked toward Luther.

"Tell me something. How is it that you get rewarded when your wolf throws a fit, but I work my ass off and get punished for it?"

Luther held up his hands, "Hey, it wasn't my idea. I'd rather stay here."

"Oh, sure, act uninterested. I know you love Alaska like I do. Do you think that's going to make me feel _better_?"

The wolf inside of Luther bristled at Bruno's tone. The human may have been Luther's elder, but he was weaker. There was no place for such insolence in a pack, and he _was_ Luther's pack. The wolf had let these things slide before because Luther asked him to, but he was sick of allowing behavior like that. The human would learn some manners.

Luther backed away when he felt the wolf pushing for control, "I don't know what to say. I didn't choose to go... Look, I'm going to head to my room."

"Sure," Bruno growled, "run like you always do."

Flashes of Montana came unbidden into Luther's mind, and this time it wasn't the wolf's doing. He knew that Bruno didn't mean it, but it was a low blow nonetheless and it caught him off balance. The wolf took the opportunity and wrested Luther's body from him. Bruno went pale when he saw his brother's expression. The wolf took a moment to let the fear build before baring Luther's teeth and stalking toward Bruno.

"Luther?" his brother's voice had lost all of its fire, "Hey, buddy, come back to me. I didn't mean that. I-I shouldn't have said that."

The wolf circled Bruno, deciding just how he would take him down. The man was larger than Luther but had no knowledge of fighting. He barked often but hardly ever bit. The wolf lunged and snapped Luther's teeth at him and he clumsily tried to dodge. The wolf then used Luther's leg to trip Bruno and pounced before he hit the ground. Just as the wolf readied to sink his teeth into Bruno's neck and shake the insolence out of him Luther came fully awake and shoved the wolf away.

He scrambled to his feet and pressed himself against the kitchen wall. He had never let this happen before. Bruno was pale and trembling. Luther held out a hand to help him off of the ground, but his brother flinched. Luther's heart crumpled. On the other side of the house, his dad's office door creaked open.

"Boys? What's going on?"

Luther couldn't face his father. He couldn't face his brother, either. He darted for his room and locked the door. This was too much. First he had gotten the attention of not one, but two different kinds of monsters and drawn them closer to him and his family. Now he had nearly torn his brother's throat out. It was past time to leave.

He grabbed his school bag, emptied the contents onto the floor, and began jamming as many of his belongings into it as he could. He didn't know where he was going. Right now he didn't care. He had to leave, and he had to do it quickly. Inside of him, the wolf rejoiced.


End file.
